Sirjaut, 16, remembers her first pet, a little white bunny that was never given a name.

Four-year-old Sirjaut and her siblings liked to play with the bunny in their front yard. The bunny hopped around in the grass as the children chased after it. An old woman who lived across the street often walked by and inquired about it.

“’Don’t leave your bunny out in the snow, that’s how mine died,’” Sirjaut said the lady warned the children.

Sirjaut and her siblings never gave a thought to the women’s advice, although she gave it on more than one occasion.

“’Don’t feed your bunny clovers,’” Sirjaut quoted her another time, “’that’s how mine died.’”

“It kind of creeped me out,” Sirjaut laughed.

Sirjaut recalls the final time the woman stopped by. When she noticed the bunny was not outside Sirjaut said she gasped, “’Oh no! Did your bunny die?’”

Sirjaut’s sister assured her the bunny was alive and safely in its cage. But back inside the house, they found the bunny had choked on a carrot and, had in fact, died.

“And that’s when I knew my neighbor was a witch.” Sirjaut’s statement made me want to laugh but the seriousness of her tone kept me quiet.

Whether witchcraft was involved or not, the circumstances surrounding the death of Sirjaut’s bunny remains a mystery.